


Tremble

by see_addy_write



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Facial Shaving, M/M, Nogitsune Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 21:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1241083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/see_addy_write/pseuds/see_addy_write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after 3X19 (Letharia Vulpina). </p>
<p>Deaton has poisoned the nogitsune temporarily, leaving Stiles scared and shaking. Scott takes care of his friend as well as he knows how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tremble

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this post](http://dontmccallmeahero.tumblr.com/post/77834991629/have-we-talked-about-stiles-stubble-in-3x18-yet) and [this amazing art.](http://imaginesciles.tumblr.com/post/77846862215/affleck-d-just-wanted-some-angsty-stuff-and-by)
> 
> Sciles is my otp -- and this is the first time I've gotten to write an actual fic for it. I hope you enjoy :)

The wound in Scott’s side was still bleeding as he all but carried Stiles out of Deaton’s office. There was a deep red stain spreading over the front of his t-shirt, and his fingers were going numb from blood loss as he gripped the steering wheel. Thankfully, the burning, ripping sensation that began as soon as the katana broke skin had subsided, and Scott was no longer dizzy. Deaton had disinfected and wrapped it in gauze before they left, and it would heal soon enough. 

Stiles was not doing as well. Even with his hands clasped in his lap, Scott could see the tremble in his blood-spattered fingers, and he hadn’t said a word since his eyes opened without the nogitsune’s presence overshadowing them. He let Scott lead him from the office with an arm around his waist, tamely climbed into the passenger seat of Melissa’s old car, and continued the silence as Scott started the engine and pulled out onto the street.

Scott turned the radio on low to drown out the silence and continued to cast worried glances at his friend out of the corner of his eye. Stiles’ expression was almost totally blank as he stared down at his shaking hands, and he actually flinched when Scott reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder. 

His heart twisted at the flinch, but Scott took his hand back and finally turned into the Stilinski’s driveway. He cut the engine and sat for a moment, steeling himself, before addressing Stiles. “Deaton said the poison might make you sick. Are you feeling okay? Or should I just drive to the ER?” 

There was a distinct possibility he should have asked before driving the whole way home, but Scott was afraid asking the wrong question could have shattered Stiles’ fragile calm. That chance still existed -- but here, at least, Stiles would be able to panic without an audience. 

Stiles opened his mouth and closed it again, teeth sinking into his lower lip. “I just want a shower,” he said finally, voice so quiet that even with his sensitive hearing, Scott could barely hear it. “I’m so cold.” It wasn’t the reasoning Scott would have guessed, considering blood – Scott’s blood – was splattered over his hands and shirt, but it hardly mattered. 

“Okay,” Scott agreed softly, and exited the car to open Stiles’ door and help him out. He was still weak, exhausted and poisoned, so Scott kept his arm around his friend’s waist, taking most of his weight again as they made their way slowly into the house and up the stairs to Stiles’ bedroom. 

Stiles was stiff against Scott’s side and pulled away as soon as his feet hit the carpet of his room. “’m okay,” he mumbled, and went straight to the adjoining bathroom. His gaze stayed on the floor the entire trek, and there were a few moments when Scott thought he was going to have to dive to catch the other boy before he hit the floor, but Stiles made it inside and closed the door on his own. 

Left alone in Stiles’ bedroom, Scott didn’t know what to do with himself. He sat down on the edge of the bed – the Sheriff had thankfully removed all evidence of Stiles’ breakdown and cleared it off – and stared down at the carpet blankly. Feeling useless was something Scott wasn’t used to, and he didn’t want to grow accustomed to it. Especially not where Stiles was concerned. 

For the moment, though, all he could do was wait. Scott busied himself with turning the bed down as the shower started to run, followed by a muffled curse that made the corners of Scott’s mouth twitch. Stiles was coming back to himself, at least a little, if he was cursing. 

Scott knocked at the bathroom door. “You okay in there?” 

There was a long silence, then finally a mumbled, “Fine.” It wasn’t quite enough to reassure Scott that Stiles was actually fine, but he took the response at face value and settled back on the bed, queuing a movie on Netflix as he waited for Stiles to finish. It was almost impossible to focus, but Scott managed to lose himself in the struggles of a fictional character whose life actually seemed worse than Scott’s for forty-five minutes. 

A loud clatter from the bathroom startled him away from the laptop. Focusing on his ears, Scott could hear Stiles’ ragged breathing, the pounding of his heart, and the sobs he was doing an admirable job of muffling, probably into a towel. This time, Scott didn’t bother to knock. He opened the door with a soft swoosh and walked inside, hands held out non-threateningly. 

Stiles was leaning heavily on the sink, elbows propped on either side of the faucet and head hanging low. His hands hovered over the sink, shaking so badly it was like his fingers had an aura. Scott could see his face in the mirror, so pale that bluish veins were visible in his tear-stained cheeks. “I’m fine,” Stiles insisted, voice cracking on the lie. 

Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, Scott nodded, hesitating. There was a razor in Stiles’ trembling grip –he hadn’t noticed before, but the realization had the speed of Scott’s heartbeat ratcheting up several notches. “Stiles, what are you –“

Stiles glanced up at him in askance, then seemed to realize what Scott was staring at. His eyes widened, and the razor clattered into the bowl of the sink. “I was just trying to shave,” he muttered, not meeting Scott’s eyes. “I wasn’t – I wouldn’t – I just, I want to be me. I never let it go this long, and that thing did, and I just want to shave.” Tears began to pool in his eyes again, and Scott couldn’t help but step forward. 

“I can help,” he offered, his full voice loud compared to the whispers Stiles had been using. Scott took hold of Stiles’ shoulders and guided him around, ignoring the flinch at his touch. Stiles had a towel wrapped around his waist, and Scott was careful not to dislodge it as he stepped into Stiles’ personal space and gripped his hands, tight enough to stop the shaking. “I’ve got you. Just- let me help. Please?”

Stiles wet his lips, glancing down at their clasped hands before finally looking up at Scott. “I stabbed you,” he bit out, the subject change making Scott’s head spin. “I stabbed you, and I used you to feed on your pain – and you want to help me? What are you even doing here, Scott?” 

If Scott hadn’t been able to smell the guilt pouring from Stiles’ hunched form, he would have worried Stiles didn’t want him there. Instead, he shook his head, eyes stinging. “You didn’t do any of that,” he argued, still clutching Stiles’ hands firmly at chest level. 

“Stiles, look at me.” If Scott infused his voice with a little Alpha power, no one would ever know. After a moment’s hesitation, Stiles’ dark eyes stared into Scott’s, however reluctantly. “You didn’t do any of that,” Scott repeated, voice firm and desperate all at once. “That was the nogitsune. It wasn’t you.” He kept Stiles’ hands steady and smiled, albeit a little strained. “And you’re my best friend. I love you. I’m not going anywhere. So can I help?” 

Stiles nodded once, jerkily. “Yeah. I -- yeah.” They stood there for a moment, with just enough space between their chests for their hands, looking at one another. After a loaded silence, Scott guided Stiles backwards until his knees hit the side of the bathtub. “Sit down,” Scott requested, hesitantly letting go of Stiles’ hands to collect the shaving cream and the razor from the sink. 

For once, Stiles did as he was asked and sat on the edge of the tub. The towel gaped a bit at his waist, but Scott did his best to keep his eyes on Stiles’ face when he turned back around. It was one thing to have inappropriate feelings for his best friend when he was his normal, goofy self – it was quite another to have them when he was possessed by an evil fox spirit that was ripping him apart. Especially when Stiles was this vulnerable – it was just wrong. 

Scott nudged Stiles’ knees apart so he could fit between them, breath catching in his throat. “Shaving cream,” he said unnecessarily, lifting the bottle and squirting foam into his palm. Stiles nodded again, and didn’t move as Scott smoothed the cream over his cheeks and chin. 

When Stiles had a beard to make Santa jealous, he looked at Scott with wide, dark eyes and tilted his head back, baring his neck. Scott inhaled sharply, pushing away the wolf instinct that clamored for Scott to claim the boy in front of him at the gesture of trust. Instead, Scott simply smoothed his foam-covered hand down Stiles’ throat.

Stiles watched his every movement but seemed to have gone boneless, the tension seeping out of his muscles at Scott’s touch. It was the most relaxed Scott had seen his friend since the sacrifices, and he took in the image. Hopefully, there would be more to come – as soon as they figured out a way to get rid of the nogitsune for good. 

“I’m gonna start with the razor,” Scott told Stiles, probably superfluously, but the other boy just nodded again, his hands moving to rest on Scott’s shoulders. The shaking was noticeable even from the light contact, but Scott ignored it in favor of taking the first swipe over Stiles’ cheek with the razor. Stiles didn’t move or stiffen, amazingly, so Scott continued until the shaving cream had all but disappeared from his face. 

Again, Stiles bared his neck, looking up at Scott with so much trust in his eyes that it actually hurt Scott to look at. Carefully, forcing his hand to remain steady, Scott glided the razor from the base of Stiles’ throat to his chin. Stiles inhaled raggedly, his fingers gripping Scott’s shoulders a little tighter, as Scott continued. 

Shaving Stiles only took about ten minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. 

When he had finished, Scott dropped the razor into the tub and reached out, unthinking, to touch Stiles’ clean-shaven face. When he didn’t flinch away, Scott traced the contours of his cheeks with the pads of his fingers, suddenly breathless. 

When his mind caught up with his actions, Scott dropped his hand and cleared his throat. “Uh, all done.” He licked his lips and added, “Is it – is it better now?” 

Stiles’ eyes were focused on the mirror across the bathroom as he nodded. “So much better,” he breathed. “Thank you.” Glassy-eyed, Stiles released Scott’s shoulders and pushed himself to his feet, wavering precariously. Scott reached out to steady him, beginning to wonder if Stiles would ever be able to catch up on the sleep he had missed. 

“Come on,” Scott said softly, stroking a hand down Stiles’ bare back. “Let’s get some sleep.” He guided Stiles back toward the bedroom, ignoring the way the towel was hanging barely above the swell of Stiles’ ass. 

Surprisingly, Stiles didn’t fight as he was led into the other room. “Can you throw me a pair of sweats?” he asked, voice almost back to normal. “Probably shouldn’t be commando if you’re sleeping with me.” 

There was a question in the last part of his comment. It echoed in his eyes as he caught Scott’s – would Scott stay with him? Thankfully, Scott had a ton of practice at reading Stiles’ body language, so he smiled and tossed a pair of grey sweatpants on the end of the bed. “You don’t mind if I stay, right? I don’t feel like driving home tonight.”

Stiles smiled, a real one, and shook his head. Scott grinned crookedly back, and for that instant, it was just the two of them again, getting ready for a sleepover like they had done so many times before. Scott ignored the little voice in the back of his head that said nothing would ever be that simple again.

While Stiles dressed, Scott moved the laptop and grabbed an extra blanket from the closet. He’d noticed that Stiles’ skin was cooler than usual, probably a result of the nogitsune poison, and he wanted to make sure he would be warm enough overnight. 

When Scott turned back around, Stiles had the pants on and was climbing stiffly into bed, rearranging the pillows to suit him. Scott tugged the blankets up over him, adding the extra one. “Comfy?” he asked, flicking the light switch before he slid into the other side of the bed. 

Stiles nodded sleepily. “Yeah. Hey – Scott?” 

“Hmm?” Scott rolled over to face him, raising an eyebrow.

There was a beat of hesitation, and then Stiles was holding his hands out between them. The tremors hadn’t subsided as Stiles calmed – instead, they had intensified. Stiles’ hands jerked spastically all on their own, the shaking so bad that his arms moved, too. 

“Can you – can you hold on to me again?” His voice cracked on the request, and then Stiles was crying in earnest, his whole body matching the tremor in his hands. Scott slid across the cool sheets and pulled Stiles to him, back to chest with Scott as the big spoon, and clapped his hands around Stiles’ again. He squeezed, stopping the shakes completely. 

“I can’t – I can’t stop thinking about it,” Stiles sobbed into the dark. “What the blade felt like, what the nogitsune felt when he did it – When he touched you, it was like – like I’d taken the biggest dose of Adderall ever. Like I was some junkie, jonesing for a fix.” He paused to swallow and glance over his shoulder at Scott with hooded eyes. 

“It felt good, and that’s the worst part. Because I couldn’t even – I couldn’t even separate me from the monster.” 

Scott said nothing as Stiles spoke, but pulled him impossibly closer as he shook apart in his arms. 

“I needed to shave, and shower, because it didn’t. And I - god, Scott, I’m so fucking sorry. I tried to stop it, you have to believe me. I begged it to stop, I screamed and fought and begged, but it wouldn’t. It wanted to hurt you, because hurting you is the best way to hurt me. But I would never – please believe me.” 

“I know,” Scott said softly, lips brushing Stiles’ ear. “I know it wasn’t you. I don’t have a problem separating the two of you, Stiles, no matter what you look like.” He nuzzled at Stiles’ neck, pushing all thoughts of inappropriate best friendly behavior to the back of his mind. If Stiles didn’t want it, he could push him away. Otherwise, Scott was going to offer comfort the best way he knew how. 

“I don’t blame you,” Scott finished, and pressed his lips gingerly to Stiles’ cheek. 

Instead of tensing, or rolling away to give Scott a strange look, Stiles rolled into him, until they were chest to chest, their hands still crushed between them. He leaned in and captured Scott’s lips with his own, steady and sure, like he’d been planning this forever. Scott tensed in shock, dropping Stiles’ hands before remembering the situation. He began to relax into the kiss as his fingers found Stiles’ again, and whined a little when Stiles ended it.

“I love you,” Stiles breathed against Scott’s mouth. “That’s why the nogitsune did it. Because I love you.” He moved back a little, lips pressed tightly together as he waited for a response. It was clear he expected a denial, or maybe a speech about how the two of them were just friends, or something equally ridiculous. 

An almost hysterical laugh bubbled up from Scott’s chest. “You love me,” he repeated, breathless. Stiles’ mouth quivered, and Scott quickly added, “I love you, too,” like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Because to him, it was – Stiles was his other half. The only person who knew he hadn’t seen Star Wars. The only one who knew what Scott looked like as his dad was leaving. The only one who had stayed by his side no matter what happened, when even his mother hadn’t. Of course Scott loved Stiles.

A stunned smile swept over Stiles’ face, and when he disentangled their arms to pull Scott into another kiss, the hand that touched Scott’s cheek barely shook at all. 

Half an hour later, Stiles was asleep in Scott’s arms. The alpha looked down at him, thinking. That night had fixed nothing, no matter how it seemed. The battle with the nogitsune was just beginning, and there would be casualties as it continued. Maybe one of them wouldn’t make it out alive – maybe one of them would have to kill the other. There was no way of knowing, and Scott didn’t want to dwell on it. Instead, he remembered the feel of Stiles’ lips against his, the feeling of utter contentment emanating from his chest as they kissed. That was what was important. 

Scott would let the world burn if it meant keeping Stiles safe. But in that moment, warm and comfortable with Stiles in his arms, Scott began to think that maybe he wouldn’t need to.


End file.
